


469. But you already bought a ticket (there's no turning back now)

by SevlinRipley



Series: This is No-Terror Ground [8]
Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship Roles, Angst, Anxiety, Codependency, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 06:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13781772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/SevlinRipley
Summary: Confronting a side-effect of their developing relationship.• Tuesday; August 24, 1993





	469. But you already bought a ticket (there's no turning back now)

**Author's Note:**

> Working title: 'sad cuddles omg i want to kms'  
> Alternatively titled: 'Get You A Nonsense Who Can Do Both'  
> Actual title from: "Carousel" by Melanie Martinez

Richie sighed, relaxing into Eddie's headboard, back supported by a couple of plumped up pillows. He let his eyes close for a minute, taking in the quiet.

Work was just so loud, all the damn time. It was fun. A lot of days. But he got in trouble for smarting off, and he wasn't allowed to curse. So a lot of his energy went into censoring himself, right along with the rest of it. Turning meat over in hot pans, stirring melted cheese so it didn't crust over, re-filling the tortilla chips, dicing tomatoes for pico, sprinkling cinnamon sugar over hot churros. The last part was an excruciating kind of torture. Hour, after hour, spent lusting after them. They just smelled so _good_ , and although he could've stuffed one in his face every break, his energy would get stilted if he tried. So he stuck to the tacos, which were slowly beginning to disgust him on a level that betrayed his soul. Tacos, of all things. How could he turn his back on _tacos_?

He supposed he got plenty of quiet at home. Somehow it was more tense, though. Alone-ness making white noise, tinnitus in his ears. It was the way it was forced on him, probably. The fact that he didn't have a choice, because there just wasn't anyone to talk to. The ringing in his ears even persisted over the radio, drowned out by the incessant yammering of his mind.

This, here, with Eddie... mouth stopped up with a pacifier, and fully content in not speaking. It was different. Richie _could_ talk. Or he could not. And somehow his mind found this valley of peace tucked between Eddie's head and foot boards. Where the quiet was no longer scary, but something he could choose to sink into. Like a warm bath.

Opening his eyes to check on Eddie, he smiled softly when he was met with a look, straddling curiosity and worry. Was Richie bored with him, was he okay, did he need a nap and was Eddie keeping him awake, being selfish? Richie blinked slowly, and lifted his arms from his sides just slightly, opening and closing his hands in gesture. "Cuddle?" he asked. Eddie crawled forward, then allowed Richie to dictate which way he ended up in his lap. This time, his legs crossed at Richie's lower back as he faced him. Rear in the gap of Richie's legs, arms wrapped around his neck. Richie's wrapped at his middle. Eddie's cheekbone met the curve of Richie's shoulder, and then he felt himself gently, slowly being rocked from side to side.

His eyes were closing, and Richie's had already blocked out the light as soon as Eddie'd been settled in his arms. Eventually their chests rose and fell together, simultaneously connecting and parting. Eddie felt miles away... Like they'd been transported to some distant shore, just the two of them, surrounded by everything they could ever need, basking in a glowing warmth from sun-heated sand, and the gentle roar of waves coaxing the rhythm into their chests.

When he woke up, eyes peeking open, eyelashes fluttering once upon his cheeks before he could fully commit, Eddie noticed Richie was no longer rocking them. Just had an arm braced across his lower back, while the other palmed ovals up one side, down the other, and around. He adjusted his head, rolling it to the side, and pressed his forehead into the side of Richie's neck.

" _Hi, baby_ ," Richie whispered, just in case he was wrong. In case Eddie was just shifting in his sleep. Eddie lifted his head, just enough to show he was, in fact, conscious. Then laid it back down as Richie pressed his cheek into the side of his head, connecting them together again. "That wasn't a very long nap, but I don't know how comfortably you can sleep like this anyway." Five minutes, or so, had passed, since Richie realized that Eddie's breath had strung even, and his body became limp, heavy against him. "Are you tired?" He could put Eddie to bed, but he didn't want to run the risk of making Eddie cry, by suggesting he might leave before Eddie was ready. Didn't want to just assume.

Eddie shook his head, hairs tickling up Richie's neck. "No?" Richie asked, chuckling under his breath. It sounded silly, Eddie knew. To claim he wasn't tired, when he'd just fallen asleep. But he'd just gotten so comfortable... And maybe he was just a little bit suggestible like this, having seen Richie closing his eyes. Eddie's thumb began to mimic Richie's hand, padded ovals into Richie's skin behind his ear, where Eddie's arms had slipped down in his sleep. His hands now resting at shoulder height, rather than at Richie's spine. "It's okay to go to bed," Richie said, testing, "Or just take a nap." When he was a kid, he was godawful about his bed time. Felt like the whole world was moving on without him, everything so far out of his control. Even got suspicious of his toys a couple times. Wondering if they were moving around and shit. Having fun without him.

Another shake of his head, and either Eddie was being stubborn, or he really didn't feel tired. Richie let his hands fall together. Lacing at the small of Eddie's back. Took a cue from Eddie, himself, and just used his thumbs to stroke lovingly over the fleece, there.

Richie measured time both with the watch on his wrist, and the breaths coasting over the tendon in his neck. Where they remained locked together for another twenty minutes. Only occasionally shifting their weight, angling tired hip bones a different way, switching which legs sat underneath. A kiss pressed to Eddie's forehead, easy rocking, little bursts of breaks where Eddie decided to hold his pacifier rather than suck on it. A giggle, a surprised, explosive one, when it dribbled onto the crux of his thigh and hip - causing Richie to hold him closer, delighting in the sound of it. The purity. By the last time Richie looked at his watch, parts of him were well on their way to sleeping, but he didn't care. Richie'd let his whole body atrophy, as long as Eddie was comfortable. Or. At least he liked to think he would. But... His obligations were not only to his body.

"It's getting late," Richie tried, breath ruffling some of the curls on Eddie's head. He wondered if Eddie forgot that Richie had a late shift that night, that he had to be there by nine. A weak three hours which he'd promised, on what was meant to be a night off, due to a sick co-worker. He had to close it out, stay till midnight. And a little bit later, if they didn't get everything clean on time.

The body sitting atop his, tensed at that. Muscles going stiff under his hands, thumb pausing at Richie's neck. Some fingers wheedled into his hair at the other side, possessive. "I know, baby. I don't want to..." So Eddie had forgotten. Or simply spaced out on what time it was. It was easy to do in the summer months, with the sun setting later. But it was stretching into fall now. School would be starting soon. And _god_ that thought punched an aching hole in his heart. Someone sticking a dull straw into the beating muscle like a coconut. Wrench some of that good shit out.

He had promised Eddie that he'd quit, if he ever felt well and truly neglected. Richie had been sure, then, that he wouldn't have to. That they would be fine, and Eddie would get plenty of him. Now it had reversed. And a part of Richie's heart was begging Eddie to tell him not to work anymore. Not let him miss a second of this. Not one fucking millisecond.

Like he already had to every time he went back home, feeling more and more like the bottom was dropping out every day. That's what was happening. He was becoming a bottomless pit of _want_ and _need_ all for the boy in his arms. (More than what he'd felt before. Somehow always more. Infinitely more.)

'Eye on the prize, Tozier,' was all he could manage. Reminding himself _why_ he was working so hard. So that after graduation they could move to the city, live together. Be comfortable and happy, without so much financial strain on their relationship. And realistically he knew - knew that a minimum wage job for a year wasn't going to keep him available 24 hours a day for the rest of his life. Knew there'd always be work in some manner or another. That that was probably for the better of their sanity anyway.

Still fucking killed him, though.

"You got your bunny..." Richie reminded him. A last-ditch effort. He swore he was about two seconds away from calling in, himself. Three hours of work was barely a couple meals. Certainly wouldn't make or break rent somewhere down the line. But Mr. Smith already talked to him, knew he wasn't sick. And he was flexible with Richie, accommodating with how many hours Richie needed, when he needed them. Already promised to give Richie the full weekend off before school started. _And_ he was going to tell Richie, first thing, when a position opened up for Eddie. As much as Richie could avoid respecting adults, he did, but under the circumstances... he'd feel guilty if he rocked the boat he was in. "Can you give your bunny a cuddle for me?" Richie asked, pulling it from the bedside table when Eddie, graciously, nodded. Eddie took the stuffed rabbit with one hand, stuffed it between them, cradling it there.

Fuck.

"Eddie..."

Eddie sucked in a quick breath, stilted, and then blinked before lifting his head. A current of pain was drumming up around his temples, beneath his eyebrows. Even so, he took the bunny with one hand again, and gracelessly fell backwards, off from Richie's lap, before turning his legs out, settling horizontal on the bed. Offering just barely enough room for Richie to squeeze out.

Once his feet were planted on the floor, knees jarred by the allowance of movement, and hips catching on one side, Richie grabbed Eddie's pajama-covered foot, gave it a little rub as he said, seriously, "I love you." Eddie wasn't looking though. Was doing as he was asked, hugging his bunny, and giving it his attention.

Like it might be too hard to let Richie go if he actually had to watch him leave.

Richie's chest was tight as he leaned over, placed a kiss at the crown of Eddie's head. "See you..." he said, strung out.

There was a flinch, a small one, when Eddie's window closed. And he used a nuzzle to his bunny's head, as an excuse to wipe the first appearance of wetness from his eyes. Then he quietly, almost carefully, laid down right where he was, and pulled the bunny close to his chest. Wishing his bunny could absorb the headache that was crowding in on him, too.

Maybe he was tired after all. Considering he fell asleep within moments.

"Eds... Eddie?" Richie whispered, a hand on Eddie's shoulder. Uncertain what age Eddie would wake up. Not wanting to frighten him, either.

It'd been over four hours, now, since he'd left. And the lights were still on in Eddie's room, glowing cracks around his curtains. Leading Richie upward, in the dark of night. Then when he'd pressed inward, and saw Eddie lying there, still in his pj's and his bunny tucked close, no covers on - nothing changed. Richie frowned. He could imagine this poor little boy crying himself to sleep.

This little boy who no one else in the world knew existed but Richie, and he'd _fucking left him_.

He awoke on a yawn, stretching one arm out, toward the sound that stirred him. "What time is it?" Eddie didn't know if Richie was supposed to be at work or at home, but either way he wasn't supposed to be _here_.

"Almost one," Richie said, rushed it out. Full of the anxious energy he'd been building up since the moment he'd left. How odd to hear such a meaningless and simple phrase sound so urgent on his tongue.

Smoothing Eddie's hair back, Richie felt two tugs at the green white, and red striped lapels of his work shirt. There was a grease stain above the name tag he hadn't taken off yet, where it was meant to be shoved into the pocket of his black slacks. And his glasses were a mess; he'd tried to clean them off at the sink before lights out, but now water spots had formed, a watercolor with soap residue and hard minerals.

Peeling his grossly unclean shoes off his feet with his toes, he managed to get out the, "Are you _okay_?" that'd been caught in his throat, by the answer to Eddie's question. _That_ was what he really wanted to say.

No, what he _really_ wanted to say was, 'I'm so sorry. I'm never leaving you again, ever ever ever. I love you _so_ much.' But if he ended up institutionalized ( _with Bowers_ , he thought, blanching - as if his love for Eddie were criminal, but that wasn't the point...) then he would have even _less_ time to offer Eddie.

Eddie was scooting up, and over... Head finally connecting with pillow after all these un-moving hours, as Richie climbed up onto the bed. "Stop being so dramatic," he said, biting the words out, a little scratchy, a little slurred. But the way he latched onto Richie, the second he was laying at his side, belied his tone. Without even grousing about the way Richie smelled of grease, without making him change into the clothes he'd been wearing earlier, where they were gathering wrinkles in his backpack, down on his handlebars. Making him take off that annoying, hard-edged name tag with all its pointed corners.

"I smell," Richie said, for him. Holding Eddie just as tightly.

"Then maybe you should've taken a shower before you woke me up," Eddie said, snippy, drawing the bridge of his nose up and down the curve of Richie's neck. Breathing in the underlying scent of Richie, beneath the food and the work-sweat.

Richie knew he was right. That he should've taken the two seconds it would have lasted, for him to run hot water and a soapy loofah over himself, changed into clothes that wouldn't potentially gross out or poke either himself or Eddie.

But over the course of three hours, Richie'd contemplated the symptoms of a heart attack more than once, heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, as he faded out mid-guacamole scoop. Just worrying. And worrying. Indigestion burning up his chest with the stress of it. He'd done it the wrong way. He just _knew_ he'd done it wrong... Not that he could've told anyone what the _right_ way was. He'd worried himself right into deciding to go get _nonfictional nanny guide books_ from the library first thing tomorrow. Like the secret was in a book somewhere, typed out by some pretentious psychology snob who'd never been around a child outside of a clinic. How Not to Give Children Abandonment Issues (And Also Yourself At the Same Time). _Mhm_ , he was totally gonna find that at the Derry library, where no guardian or parent - except for maybe Mike and Ben's - had ever given a flying shit one way or the other. Maybe Mrs. Starret could put in a request at some other town. Have it trucked over. She'd been nice about the children's books... Helpful even, despite the eight-year-long preexisting late fees Richie'd owed.

"Eds -" "Richie -"

"Jinx," Richie said, a half-assed curve to his lips. A mere suggestion of a smile.

"We didn't say the same thing, idiot. That's not a jinx."

"Yeah, I guess it'd be pretty weird if we were the same person. I mean, is the world really ready for clone-on-clone action? I'd be willing to give it a shot, but I don't think it'll take off until like... 3029."

"Richie... Shut up." Speaking of half-assed. Eddie's voice was about as flat and non-threatening as a deflated beach ball. With maybe a bubble or two of amusement.

"So heart-felt," Richie said, teasing, as he leaned his head down, cheek to the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie sighed. Snuggling in closer to Richie's chest as he said, "You make no sense."

Richie laughed, quiet, with a sleepiness edging in. Emotions finally turning down a notch and leaving him feeling wasted in the aftermath. An adrenaline hang-over. "That's what makes me appealing. Alice, meet Wonderland. Wonderland, meet Alice."

Snorting at the dated reference, Eddie said, "You _do_ know how that story ends, don't you?"

Ben was the one in the group, with the Disney VHS collection. And occasionally they'd pop one in as background noise, or if one of them had felt particularly egged on by yester-era nostalgia to escape a haunting memory. They'd watched _Alice in Wonderland_ at some point, probably. Because the story, although vague, did exist in Richie's mind. Despite never having read the book. Books? Whatever.

"Oh. Right. But didn't like, Lewis, or whatever, write a sequel where she came back? Like, you know, you just _keep_ coming back for more of me?"

"What, because she went there _two_ whole times? Wow, she just can't get enough, can she?"

"Um, there's been like a million adaptations _haven't_ there? School plays, movies, stories. Every time someone reads the books, every time a kid pushes play on their VCR? I'm pretty sure Alice is _in_ Wonderland like, _all_ the time."

"In," Eddie said, musing, a huff of a laugh coming out his nose.

Richie began smirking, a slow insidious kind of smile. One eyebrow arched, he cocked his head. "Well, you know," Richie said, drawing the words out like an old cowboy, tippin' his hat down, stickin' a piece o' straw in his mouth, "Nonsense can go either way." Richie tucked one of his legs between Eddie's, pants stretching stiffly across his ass as he did - a reminder that he really did want to change into something more comfortable. Soon. "Plus, no one ever thinks of Alice without Wonderland, or Wonderland without Alice. They're strictly associated for the rest of all time and eternity."

"Ever?" Eddie asked, eyes narrowing. He wasn't so certain that was true. But the sentiment was nice, anyway. Sweet. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out quick. "You're such a sap..." He wrapped his ankle around Richie's locking him in place.

"I missed you," Richie said, with a little shrug. As if responding to the accusation. But it was more of a change of subject. Or... a return to one, rather. It was an understatement, of course. Worried sick was more accurate. And if that didn't fall on the same line as missing someone, well oh well.

Eddie went quiet, then. _You dumb ass,_ Richie thought to himself, of himself. Way to bring up something that clearly Eddie didn't want to talk about. It could've been a good sign, too. Maybe he didn't _need_ to talk about it. Maybe he didn't know what they were talking _about_. Richie'd just built it up in his head, and Eddie hadn't really felt dislodged or disconnected when Richie left. Cast aside... If the suffering was all Richie's, then great! He'd take it.

"That was harder than it should've been. Wasn't it?" Eddie said, voice barely above a whisper.

 _Oh_.

Should've? What was 'should've?' Who decided what should and what shouldn't?

But for the purposes of reality and living, in a word: Yes.

"Longest shift of my fucking _life_."

Again, Eddie laughed. Like it snuck up on him, winding up the back of his throat, sneaky. Yeah, so Richie'd only been working for a few months. Fine. Maybe he'd yet to see what a _truly_ long shift was like. But somehow he doubted it. That it could ever get much worse than tonight. Three hours plus commute and cleaning - it'd felt like a year.

Eddie knew he'd slept it off, technically. That maybe he shouldn't still feel the press of it, like it'd weighted him to the bed the whole time Richie was gone. But it had. His sleep was restless, but the truth was... he'd been afraid to open his eyes. Some pivot in his pulse every time he realized he was awake, would make his nerves light up, an anxiety flaring up at the forefront like a bat just hovering before his face, wings bobbing, holding both itself and him in place. No way to dodge it. A barricade that pulled him, over and over again, back to sleep. No other way. Too scared to make another choice and find out that he was still alone. _Stop being so dramatic,_ Eddie repeated, to himself, with an internal scowl.

"This isn't... what it's for," he said, half-way to only mouthing the words, they were so hard to get out.

Richie's eyebrows drew together. "What what's for?"

"Me. ...Being little. It's not - _supposed_ to give me - more." More shit to worry about.

Swallowing around a thick lump in his throat, Richie felt his eyes go stinging-dry all at once. Then prick up, kind of wet. As he read between the lines. "You - it ... was my fault. I shouldn't have left. I should've just stayed," he said, instinctively arguing. Even though he knew it was an illogical point against the heart of the problem. Head shaking of its own accord.

Angling his head back, Eddie used his leg to slide himself up to eye-level. Looking at Richie eye-to-eye, serious. "No, Rich... You shouldn't have." Stayed. He _did_ what he should have, in going to work. Eddie had known, anyhow, in the back of his mind, why Richie was pressing the idea of laying Eddie down for bed. So that it wouldn't be as hard as it had been, or even a fraction thereof. But Eddie'd refused. Refused to sleep away the time he knew he had left with Richie, that way. If anything... it was _his_ fault. And he hated that he felt like he was punishing Richie for his own mistake.

"People _miss_ their kids, _Eddie_." Well, some people did, anyway. There were movies! Scenes where people, moms mostly, but whatever, took their children to kindergarten, and ended up being the ones fucked up about it. Their kids running off to make friends and be without them for the first real time. People went on business trips! And they - surely they felt. Messed up about it in some way. Or like, the first time they left their kid with a babysitter. Those sitcoms that played up the fact that the mom and dad got to their fancy dinner and ended up calling home within the first five minutes to check on things. Got their food to go, and rushed home because they weren't fucking ready. "It's just school," Richie said, plaintive, high and cut up. "We're just stressed about school!" Helplessly falling away to anger.

"Richie," Eddie said. Soft, smoothing his hand down Richie's collar as if it were attached to him, placating pets. A coo of his name. Hushing...

In a way, Richie might've been right. Maybe they were feeding off of anxiety about the end of summer, returning to a more scheduled life full of expectations and deadlines, people who made fun of them and tried to trip them up in the hallways, threw used Kleenex onto their food trays. But even if that was true, it didn't change the fact that Eddie had _clearly_ reached a point where it was doing damage. Even if - even if it still did him good, in-between. He _had_ to be honest with himself.

Richie felt like he was scrambling, up and away, off the bed, out of this - this fucking straight jacket Eddie was trying to put him in for their own good. ...In reality he was stationary. Completely still apart from the heaving of his chest. " _You can't_ ," he said, vision suddenly swimming, jaw tight, a stone carving.

"I'm just... saying... Maybe I should take a break from - that. For a while."

He knew that. Richie already fucking _knew_ that. Okay? He wasn't fucking stupid. Did Eddie have to _say_ it? Especially when Richie was already choking back the urge to point out the fact that Eddie had _said_ he'd still get to be with... him, when he was little, the day they first got together. Some promise being broken, now. And for what? Because Richie _loved_ him? What kind of bullshit was that?

"It was too much, Richie..."

"But isn't part of the point to _let_ yourself be vulnerable to shit like that?" he yelled.

The second he said it, there was one more solid wrench to his gut, twisting it further. "I - sorry," Richie said, tone and volume deflating. "I'm - not trying to tell you what it's for ... how you should feel. I just meant that I _thought_ maybe that was what you've been suggesting."

Eyes moving side-to-side, Eddie's lips parted just slightly as he took in what Richie was saying. Then he closed his eyes, momentarily, and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to Richie's lips. "I know what you're saying," Eddie told him softly, words nearly pressed up against Richie's mouth. "I get it. I do. But I'm telling you... This is different. It was too much this time. At least, for now. I just have to process. Okay?" No. Not okay, Richie wanted to tell him. Despite the earnest sincerity in Eddie's eyes. "It won't be forever. It might not even be long at all. I'm _just_ saying I need some time."

Eddie sighed, head threatening to loll to the side. How could they be this close, and Richie _still_ avoid looking at him? "You can stay mad at me the whole time, but I'd prefer you didn't," he said, of the time it might take him to come back to it. These pajamas, his bunny, the binky that had fallen from his mouth as he slept, nestled somewhere between their legs on the bed. Everything else that went with it.

 _That_ caught Richie's attention. He looked back at Eddie, then, eyes focusing, large and owlish behind his glasses. "I'm not mad," he said, sounding almost petulant. Voice dull around the edges.

The tone and words, both, choked a little laugh out of Eddie. Self-loathing, but also admiring of Richie, and his failed attempt at denial. "Oh, _okay_." Eddie slotted their noses together again, kissing Richie. Three short pecks, one right after the other. "I'm still gonna be here, you know. You still have me." He felt childish, almost, for saying it. The more bitter, cynical part of him knowing that people didn't have people, that people didn't _belong_ to others.

Yet Richie had placed him in this role, for some reason. The one who had to know that everything would be okay, that they'd make it, together, if they both had patience. Communicated. So yeah, maybe his words felt like they came out of a fairy tale. But he'd believe them to his last breath. Maybe being ... little, had given him that, in a way. Maybe there was a reason it came before Richie and Eddie's friendship turned into more. Or was it just dumb luck?

Setting aside the fact that Eddie never thought, in the first place, that he was going to have this side to him forever. Was he going to blow out his fiftieth birthday candle from a high chair? Probably not. He didn't even know if he'd meant to carry it on _this_ long. But once Richie became a part of it, it'd been this whole other-worldly experience. Beyond his imagination of what his life could be like. And he'd developed a real connection to it, a red string tied around it, around Eddie's and Richie's fingers. So yes... he knew he'd come back. But that, too, might not last forever. And for that reason, Richie needed this proposed break as much as Eddie did. Plant the idea that they would still be okay, even if Eddie grew up. For real.

"But I want _all_ of you," Richie said, tilting his head back just enough to press a kiss to the tip of Eddie's nose. A small spark of guilt etched into the motion, wondering, minutely, whether - whether he could just _baby_ Eddie back into it. He swallowed the notion down, however, as a much larger spark of nausea hit him. His stomach _already_ felt like it was full of foam, and now... Now he was just being an idiot.

Eddie dragged air into his lungs, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. And that's very sweet," he said, punctuating 'sweet' with an indulgent smile, "But. You know..." He lifted a hand to scratch at his scalp, ran fingers through his own hair as he thought about how to phrase things. Then instead of returning it to Richie's back, he lined Richie's jaw with the span of his index finger and thumb. "Our relationship doesn't dissolve the second you step out that window, right? Not denouncing pizza with anchovies 24/7 doesn't mean I like it all of the sudden. So just because I'm not _exhibiting_ a part of myself, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Okay? I'll always be here. _All_ of me."

Richie licked out at his lower lip, eyes searching Eddie's patient face. Finally, he groaned, and put their foreheads together. "Why do you have to be so smart all the damn time?"

Laughing, Eddie let his eyes squeeze closed, a vice grip loosening in his chest somewhere. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you _want_ to be grumpy?"

" _Maybe_. I kinda like watching you try to comfort me."

Eddie scoffed at that, pulling his head back, eyes wide open. "Excuse me? First of all, _try_? Second of all, you hated every single second of what just happened..."

"Not _every_ single second. I liked the parts where you kissed me."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie asked, a rich and effortless smirk on his face. Richie nodded, so Eddie did him a favor - not for his own benefit at all, of course - and locked their mouths together. They both closed their eyes, falling into the heat of the kiss. Jaws working against the pillow, and Eddie's fingers lacing through Richie's hair. It had started out with fairly pure intent, but soon enough devolved into their sloppiest kiss to date. Richie's leg entangled enough, as it were, that when he began retracting it, both of Eddie's legs followed, until they were completely wrapped up in each other, Richie pressing Eddie back into the bed. Glasses sliding down his face to sit awkwardly at the juncture.

As soon as Richie found himself running out of breath, lungs heaving, he stroked a thumb across Eddie's cheekbone, gently loosening their mouths from each other. Apart, he was finally able to adjust his glasses, pushing them up with his arm. He let out a gentle sigh, as he and Eddie caught their breaths. "Eds..." And he hadn't meant to say it. But there was still a firm _ache_ penetrating his chest, radiating out all over his body. He bit his lip, to shut himself up. _Yeah, Eddie_ , he thought, _try_.

Eddie's hands were bracing Richie's neck as he hovered. The look on his face, nearly blank, read that he knew exactly what Richie was thinking. Or feeling, anyway. But he didn't know what else to say that wouldn't be just giving in. And that wasn't an option. "You really do reek," he said, instead. Of hot oil and salt.

Richie smiled, halfway, and said, "Yeah... I know. I should probably - " He jerked his head toward the window. Go home... He should go home and shower. Get some sleep.

He watched Eddie's Adam's apple bob, as he swallowed, watched his eyes go despondent for a bare moment, before they were shining back at him. 'See?' Richie wanted to say. 'It doesn't matter how old you are, or what we're doing... I don't wanna fucking _leave_ you, _alright_?' A trill of vindication crawling up his spine. Turning him to stone.

To counter-act the vileness of it all, Richie decided to forego the invitation he was going to make. A real proper card, with Time, Date, and Place - B.Y.O.S.T., and R.S.V.P.

They needed this now more than ever, he thought, in a distant kind of way. So distant it felt too adult for him to acknowledge. "Hey, I got the weekend before school off. Gonna find a way to kick my parents and stupid sister out of the house," he started, then interrupted any line of inquiry Eddie might have with, "Totally innocent, I swear. But bring your swim trunks, or I can't keep that promise." The confusion that spread over Eddie's face then, almost, _almost_ acted as a Band-Aid. In the moment. "Okay? Come over after dark, Saturday. We can figure out plans for Sunday, then. ...Probably have to do an ass-ton of chores Saturday morning and afternoon to get my family out but y'know."

"Kay," Eddie said, hushed by the idea of Richie having made plans for them. "Love you," he said, like it was a test. Two words sent out over radio waves, wondering if he'd get a response.

Richie swallowed, this time. Nodded his head sharply. "Love you, too." He pressed one more, short kiss to Eddie's lips, and then began working his limbs out from the puzzle they'd created. "Don't forget to unlock your door so Mrs. K doesn't freakout."

"Kay."

Eddie's eyes were on him. As he affixed his shoes, climbed out the window without looking back...

" _Shit_ ," Eddie whispered, to himself. Fumbling to find his bunny, press a hug to his chest. Richie didn't say there was an age limit on his bunny's Hug-n-Kiss delivery system. _What a fucking idiot..._ he thought, putting himself in his place so that he could do what he had to. Avoid getting swept back up in one swift motion. End up going against everything - all that shit he'd just put Richie through.

He climbed out of bed and began putting things away, chest clenched tight as he dressed down to a white undershirt and boxers, for bed. Unlocked his door. Turned out his lights. And laid back down.

(The only thing he didn't store away was the fun-sized version of a blanket Richie had gotten him, where it'd been tucked away under his pillow since the moment he brought it home. And he hoped, the thought cycling through his head, that Richie would forgive him for taking a corner of cool, satin border between thumb and finger, while he slept that night.)


End file.
